A very involuntary lesson to Miss Essie herself came longingly to Mr. Linden's lips, but except from the slight play and compression of the same she had not the benefit of it. He spoke as usual.
"She has never learned the art of self-defence, Miss Essie, therefore I pray you attack me. No, I am not coming back to the school—and to say truth, I think there would be some people sorry—as well as glad—if I did."
"Your bad scholars?"—said the lady, not intent upon her question.
"No—my good friends."
"I should be glad," said Miss Essie. "Who are your friends that would be sorry? Dr. Harrison, for instance?"
"The friends who like my present work better."
"And you are going to be a clergyman?" said Miss Essie, leaning her elbow on the table and 'studying' Mr. Linden, perhaps some other things too, with her eyes. He smiled under the scrutiny, but merely bowed to her question.
"It's dreadful hard work!—" said Miss Essie.
"Dreadful?—Miss Essie, you have not studied the subject."
"No," said she laughing,—"I said 'dreadful hard.' And so it is, I think."